


Strangers in a Bar

by Caedmon



Series: Fantasies [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Drinking, Dry Humping, Frottage, M/M, Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24822457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Two strangers meet in a bar and flirt by ordering each other suggestive cocktails.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Fantasies [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738033
Comments: 99
Kudos: 333





	Strangers in a Bar

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of things, beyond the usual:  
> First, I have been informed that there are no TVs in bars/pubs in Britain. I’m sorry for the inaccuracy. Also, I wrote this during the height of the George Floyd/BLM protests in America in part because I was desperate to give Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s opinions on the topic, but no mention has been made of the ongoing pandemic. I hope you can forgive me for sticking my head in the sand about covid with this story. 
> 
> Now for the usual: As always, thanks goes out to the Cadre server, especially Lur, Tarek, and NairumiKaiko. An additional thanks goes to the ineffable husbands fanfic Facebook group for helping me brainstorm drinks for this story. 
> 
> I am but a dancing, fic writing monkey. Comments and kudos are the coins in my tin cup. Thank you for them.

The establishment was nearly deserted, only a couple of tables occupied. There was no one at the bar save Crowley, which suited him fine. He wasn’t in the mood for chit chat with random strangers tonight. Not that he ever really was, but he _certainly_ wasn’t tonight. 

He hadn’t been there long, only long enough to order a drink and be halfway through it. But there was no rush, no reason to hurry. He had all the time in the world, and just sipped his drink idly. The telly was on behind the bar, tuned to the news, and Crowley watched halfheartedly. The volume was just loud enough to hear, if he cared to pay attention, but not so loud as to be distracting if he wanted to ignore it. For now he just watched passively as the pretty, blonde anchor talked about the latest developments in parliament. 

Crowley sensed someone nearby and turned his attention to his right, where a man was taking a seat on a barstool a couple of seats away from him. 

“Hello,” the man said warmly with a smile for the barkeep, a young lady whose name eluded Crowley. “Could I have a glass of red, please?”

The barkeep gave a nod and turned to get the wine. Crowley let his eyes go over the man who had just sat down. He was about Crowley’s age and height with white-blond, curly hair and blue-grey eyes. He was dressed in a light-colored suit, complete with waistcoat, and his blue shirt was open at the collar. His face was open and friendly, terribly attractive, and he smiled politely at the barkeep when he was handed his wine. Crowley found himself inexplicably jealous of the bartender - _he_ wanted to be the recipient of that smile. 

The blond man took a sip of his wine, hummed a little in appreciation, then gave a little sigh of pleasure. “Thank you, dear,” he said to the barkeep, who nodded and turned back to the news. 

Quite unexpectedly, the blond man turned towards Crowley, catching him staring. Crowley didn’t have time to look away before the blond man was smiling at him, and that smile hit him like a cricket bat to the chest. 

“Hello,” the blond man said. 

“Hello,” Crowley said in return, his pulse fluttering, an involuntary smile on his lips. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

“You wouldn’t have. I’m not from around here.”

The blond man raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Where are you from, if I may ask?”

“All over, really, but my flat is in Mayfair.”

The blond man smirked. “All over? Well, that’s not half mysterious.”

He was being teased and he knew it, but the man’s soft smile told him it wasn’t malicious and he didn't take any offense. Honestly, he couldn’t imagine this man ever being offensive. 

“So tell me, Mr. Mysterious, what brings you to Soho?”

“Work,” Crowley replied, turning his body towards the man a little, hoping to appear more open and willing to converse. “You?”

“I live here, just a few streets over,” the man said, gesturing vaguely towards the street. “And my work is here, also.”

“What do you do for work?”

“I have a little bookshop.”

“What types of books?”

“Oh, all types, but mostly antiquarian and oddities. Things you won’t find at most bookshops. Nothing in my shop is younger than a half century.”

Crowley’s eyebrows were raised. “Rare books?”

“Yes. My shop is quite dusty, as you can imagine. Best to avoid it if you have trouble with allergies.”

He laughed a little. “I’ll bear that in mind. How long have you been in the rare books business?”

“Oh, it seems like a couple hundred years, it’s been so long. It’s all I know.”

“Do you like it?”

The man took a sip of his wine and nodded. “I do, I like it very much. It’s the perfect vocation for me - it allows me almost unlimited reading materials, and nearly unlimited time in which to read them.” 

“I can see where those would be advantages, to someone who considered himself a bookworm.”

“Oh, I do. I’m very much a bookworm.”

“Not a bad way to be,” Crowley said with a grin he hoped was disarming.

“I certainly hope not, since I’ve been this way all my life.”

Crowley chuckled and the man graced him with another smile that made Crowley’s heart flutter again. Bloody hell. This man wasn’t attractive, he was _gorgeous_.

“I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name,” the blond man said. 

“Where are my manners? My name is Anthony, but you can call me Crowley,” he said, offering his hand. 

The blond man took it to shake and electricity skittered up Crowley’s arm from the touch. 

“Crowley. It’s a very great pleasure. My name is Aziraphale Fell.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Aziraphale Fell,” he said, still shaking the hand. 

“Likewise, Crowley.”

He couldn’t help but be disappointed when the handshake ended and he was no longer touching the blond man - Aziraphale. His hand felt suddenly empty and he brought it over to trace patterns in the condensation on his glass.

“Aziraphale is an unusual name,” he remarked, just to be saying something. 

The smile Aziraphale gave was almost tired, as if he got that comment a lot. “It is. My parents were religious scholars.”

“So they named you after an angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened a little with surprise. “They did. Most people don’t know Aziraphale is the name of an angel, though. I’m impressed.”

Crowley was chuffed and smiled, pleased. “Well, I like it. It suits you.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks pinkened. “Thank you, dear.”

 _Dear_. A term of endearment from this man. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. 

They lapsed into quiet, and Crowley desperately tried to think of things to say while he finished his drink. He’d never been good at small talk, but he didn't want the conversation to end. He very much wanted to talk to this angelic man a bit more. As long as he could - as long as he’d be allowed. 

He glanced at Aziraphale to see that he had his eyes on the telly. His brows were knitted as he looked at the screen. 

“Terrible,” he said, almost to himself. 

Crowley turned to see what he was looking at, what could be causing him such distress, and saw the images of large crowds in the streets, holding up signs. He turned back to Aziraphale with a quirked brow, his curiosity piqued. 

“Terrible that they’re protesting?”

“No, terrible _what_ they’re protesting. It’s a horrible shame that they need to protest at all.”

“That’s America for you,” Crowley replied, relieved by his answer. “I mean, that’s not to say that things are great here, either,” he went on, fishing for more. 

“Oh, certainly not. And they haven’t been since - well, things have _never_ been problem-free, have they? But our current government certainly isn’t helping.”

Crowley was even more relieved by _that_ answer. With every word, he was liking this man more and more. 

“Nope,” he agreed. “They’re all bastards, politicians, but it seems the set we’ve got now are a bit worse than the usual.”

“Indeed. And it seems that the Americans have got the same problems, only much bigger.”

“God, yeah, that arsehole is out of his tree. And he seems to be getting worse every day.”

Aziraphale frowned. “Those poor Americans.”

“They did it to themselves,” Crowley pointed out. 

“I suppose so, although I do remember hearing that he didn’t win the popular vote. I don’t quite understand their system of elections. Still, I just hope they do a better job at the ballot box this November. The world needs sane leaders.”

“Hear, hear.”

Aziraphale looked pleased for a moment, then said, “May I ask you something, Crowley?”

Crowley nodded. “Sure. Ask me anything.”

“Would you think me terribly forward if I asked to buy you a drink?”

He felt a thrill all over him, underneath his skin, and couldn’t help his bright smile. “I’d love that. But only if you let me buy you one in return.”

“You’ve got a deal. May I come sit with you?”

Crowley’s smile grew. “Please do.”

Aziraphale got to his feet and shuffled over to the stool next to Crowley, speaking to the bartender as he moved. “Kelsey, dear, would you make each of us a dirty martini?” Then he turned to Crowley. “Is that alright? You look like the sort of man who would enjoy a dirty martini - shaken not stirred, like James Bond. But I should have asked.”

“That’s perfect, angel,” Crowley replied, fairly glowing. This man compared him to James Bond? Bloody hell.

The blond man flushed. “Angel. I like that.” He turned back to Kelsey. “Thank you, dear,” he said with a smile as he took his seat next to Crowley. This close, Crowley could smell him, and his scent was intoxicating. He smelled a bit like old books, but that petrichor was mixed with something Crowley couldn’t put his finger on. Whatever it was was desperately appealing, and it took all his willpower not to lean over and take a deep whiff of the blond man’s neck, to get more of that smell. 

“So, um, do you specialize in any particular _type_ of rare books?” he asked, feeling more than a bit stupid. He’d already asked something very similar, but his brain was a bit fuzzy from the proximity and he couldn’t think of anything clever.

Aziraphale smiled kindly, as if he’d noticed the repetition and was amused by it. “I have all sorts of books on every conceivable topic, from philosophy to plays, from romance to cookbooks. Many of them are first editions, and as I mentioned, all of them are quite old. But I _do_ have a rather large collection of certain types of book - notably biblical misprints and books of prophecy.” 

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s quite a niche. Are any of them accurate? The books of prophecy, that is.”

“None of them are entirely accurate. Occasionally, there’s a prediction that will come true, but that’s rare. It reminds me of that old saying - ‘even a broken clock is right twice a day’.”

Crowley laughed, barely even noticing when Kelsey placed two dirty martinis in front of them. Aziraphale laughed, too, and the sound was music to Crowley’s ears. He pulled his olives out, laid them on the napkin for later, then picked up the martini glass and raised it. “Shall we toast?”

“To what, dear?”

“To meeting interesting strangers on a Tuesday night.”

Aziraphale giggled, but raised his glass. “Hear, hear.”

They clinked their glasses in a toast, then each took a drink. Crowley’s eyes never left Aziraphale’s face as he drank about half of his martini in one go. Aziraphale did the same, and they sat down their glasses at the same time. 

“Good martini,” Crowley commented.

Aziraphale smiled. “Yes. Kelsey is a very talented bartender. I haven’t yet given her the name of a cocktail that she hasn’t been able to make, and I’ve entertained myself trying to stump her several nights.”

Crowley smirked. “Really? I wonder if we could stump her, working together?”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “I think we should at least try.”

He couldn’t help but smile. It sounded as if Aziraphale were willing to spend a while with him tonight, and Crowley was ridiculously pleased. 

Crowley was hypnotized when Aziraphale, with a quirked half smile and averted eyes, stirred the remains of his drink with the olives, then lifted the toothpick to his mouth, pulling off one of the olives with his perfect, pearly teeth. Crowley felt his cock twitch in his pants and his hands go clammy. He swallowed hard. 

“Mmm,” Aziraphale said. “That’s scrummy.” Then he pulled off the other olive and ate it, too, while Crowley watched, transfixed.

At length, he tore his wide eyes away from Aziraphale’s pink mouth and picked up his martini glass almost desperately, draining it, his brain scrambling. When he sat the empty glass down, Aziraphale smirked at him. “Do you not like the olives?”

Crowley loved olives, but he shook his head no. He’d much rather watch Aziraphale eat them.

“You go ahead,” he said, pushing his napkin with the speared olives a little closer in offer. Aziraphale smiled and took his olives, and Crowley watched, entranced, as he ate them slowly, deliberately, his eyes smoldering. 

Crowley’s mind reeled. Was Aziraphale _flirting_ with him? Christ. That was a thrilling possibility. But he needed to be sure before he did something stupid and made an arse of himself. He was ready for another drink, but Kelsey had disappeared for the moment. That was fine. He had a question for Aziraphale before he could order anyway. He needed to suss out a couple of things before this went any farther. 

Steeling himself for whatever he may find out, he said, “So, tell me a bit more about yourself, Aziraphale the angel. Wife? Kids?”

Aziraphale laughed and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. No wife, no kids. I haven’t even had a boyfriend in over a year. You?”

Crowley brightened at this new knowledge. “Me? Nah. Seems you and I are in similar circumstances: not married, no kids. And it’s been about a year since I had a boyfriend, too.”

Aziraphale’s answering smile was dazzling. “That’s good to know. That I’m not keeping you, that is.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything. Say, can I buy you that drink now?”

“As long as you promise it won’t be the last one we share tonight.”

Crowley felt like he was glowing. “I promise. What would you like?”

Aziraphale’s smile was coy. “Whatever you’d like me to have.”

“A couple of french kisses, please,” he said in Kelsey’s general direction, although he kept his eyes locked on Aziraphale. The blond man flushed, but looked pleased, and Crowley was thrilled to bits.

~*~O~*~

Two hours later, an increasingly inebriated Crowley and Aziraphale were finishing their fifth drink. The drink names had gotten more suggestive with each order and they’d progressed from french kiss to hanky panky, then to a between the sheets, and they’d just finished a slow, comfortable screw. The drink, not the act - although Crowley was more and more certain that was where this night was heading for him. If the drink names hadn’t been a giveaway, the lingering looks and casual touches would have clued him in. As mind boggling as it was, this gorgeous, clever man Crowley seemed to have clicked with instantaneously wanted him, too. If Crowley hadn’t already been intoxicated from all the drinking, he’d have been drunk off that knowledge. 

“Let me ask you something, angel,” he said, a dopey smile on his face and his words a bit slurred. 

“Ask away, my dear,” Aziraphale replied, his smile just as dopey and his words just as slurred. 

“It’s time for you and I to order another drink. Based on name alone, which drink do you think would suit you best? Per- pers - _personality_ wise.”

“Ooh, what an intriguing question! Let me think on that for a minute.”

His beautiful face screwed up a bit in thought, a small line appearing between his brows, and Crowley gave a drunken, delighted grin. Was everything this man did cute? It certainly seemed so.

Aziraphale’s face brightened suddenly. “I’ve got it.”

“Lay it on me,” Crowley encouraged him, swaying a little in his seat. 

“A very fine kinky bitch,” Aziraphale said proudly, as if announcing that he’d found the cure to cancer.

Crowley threw back his head and laughed, pure delight bubbling out of his chest and into sound. Aziraphale laughed with him, and it just felt _good_ \- so good to be here with this man. He’d not felt this good in _years_.

“I love it,” Crowley said a minute later, when he turned his face back to Aziraphale and attempted to focus on him. “I absolutely love it. And you nailed the very fine part. You are _definitely_ very fine,” he leered, waggling his eyebrows in what he hoped was a suggestive way. 

“What about the kinky bitch part?”

“Remains to be seen,” he teased. 

Aziraphale’s smile was wicked, his eyes dancing. “Buy me another drink and you can find out for yourself.”

Crowley swiveled unsteadily towards Kelsey. “Kelsey! This angel needs a drink, please. He’s a very fine kinky bitch,” he announced loudly. The bartender just rolled her eyes and started to pull down bottles while he and Aziraphale giggled. 

“Kelsey, my dear, when you finish with that, would you make dear Crowley here a drink I think he’ll appreciate - a red headed slut?”

Crowley laughed again and turned to look at Aziraphale with bleary, happy eyes. “Oh, is that what you think of me? I see how it is,” he teased again. 

“Oh, no, my darling. I don’t think you’re a slut. I merely _hope_ you’re one.”

The red haired man considered this for a moment. “Well, if I’m being honest, I’d have to say that I fall somewhere in the middle. I’m nowhere near cel- celi- I’m not a _monk_ , but I’m rarely slutty. For example, I _never_ go home with strange men I meet in bars.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Never?”

“Well, never until tonight,” he replied with a lascivious look. At least, he tried to be lascivious. That was the intent. The alcohol was blurring his ability, and he couldn’t be sure he was pulling it off right now.

Aziraphale grinned and ran one finger down from Crowley’s shoulder to his hand. Crowley shuddered pleasantly from the touch when their skin met. 

“Good to know. And for the record, I never do this, either. Take strange men home, that is.”

“But you’re going to tonight?” Crowley asked hopefully. 

“Oh, absolutely. Only we might not make it home.”

“Keep it in your pants, gents,” Kelsey the bartender advised with a quirked smile when she sat the drinks down. 

“Quite right, dear,” Aziraphale said, accepting his drink with a flush. Crowley just grinned stupidly. 

Kelsey turned back to her work, leaving Aziraphale and Crowley with their drinks and their awkward flirting. Aziraphale picked his up and took a swallow - Crowley followed suit. When he’d drained half the glass in one go, he sat it back down and smacked his lips approvingly. 

“Nothing like a nice, slutty drink to quench a man’s thirst. How’s yours? Kinky enough for you?”

“Just kinky enough,” Aziraphale said, his smile crooked, and was it Crowley’s imagination, or did he just get closer? No, it must not have been his imagination because now their knees were touching. Crowley looked down and tried to focus, to see if his sense of touch was playing tricks on him, and as he looked, a neatly-manicured hand appeared in his field of vision and laid itself casually on his thigh. He stared at it for a minute, unable to believe what was happening, until he heard Aziraphale say in a soft, unsure voice, “Is that alright?”

Crowley looked back up at him, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and nodded, his jaw a little slack. “Yeah, angel. That’s fine.”

“Oh, good,” Aziraphale said, then used his thumb to stroke Crowley’s thigh. Crowley’s cock, which had been trying to make itself known since Aziraphale had suggested a hanky panky and he’d finally let himself believe this was _real,_ hardened again. Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get out of this bar. But at the same time, he never wanted this to end. The suspense, the anticipation, was delicious, and he relished it. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted, really, all he knew for sure was that he wanted _Aziraphale._

Emboldened, he put his own hand on Aziraphale’s thigh, loving the feel of the flesh under his hand. His leg was soft, relaxed, but Crowley could tell there was strength there. It made him shiver, and he used his free hand to pick up his drink and drain it. 

“Last call, gentlemen,” Kelsey said, coming over with a small smile. “The bar is closing in fifteen minutes.”

“Is it that time already?” Aziraphale remarked, looking genuinely surprised. “My, how time flies.”

Crowley turned to Kelsey, removing his hand from Aziraphale’s leg with regret to retrieve his wallet. “We’ll have an order for you in a moment, and you can put all our drinks on this,” he said, fishing out a black card and passing it to her. 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Aziraphale protested. 

“I want to.”

“But at least half of those drinks were ordered by me. You simply must let me con… cont… chip in. I insist.”

“I’ll let you cover the tip,” Crowley bargained with a sloppy smirk, “If you’ll let me kiss you in a bit.”

Aziraphale grinned, his eyes sparkling. “I’m hoping to do a great deal more than kiss you when I get you back to mine, dear.”

Crowley’s cock throbbed. 

“What would you like for our last drink?” he asked, shifting a little in his seat to make room for his erection. 

The angel’s eyes never left Crowley’s when he leaned towards Kelsey. “We’d each like a blowjob and a screaming orgasm.”

Crowley nearly came in his pants. “Jesus, angel.”

“Problem?”

He shook his head in denial. “No, nuh uh. No problem at all.”

Aziraphale’s hand stroked Crowley’s thigh lightly and he winked. 

A minute later, Kelsey sat the four drinks in front of them - a pair of whipped-cream topped shots and a creamy drink in a glass, as well as Crowley’s card. He took a second to sign the receipt and slid the card back into his wallet before he forgot it, then turned his attention back to Aziraphale. 

“I take it you’ve done a blowjob before?” he asked. 

Aziraphale smirked. “The drink? Or the act?”

Crowley flushed, a bit embarrassed. “Yes, I meant the drink. Not the other thing.”

“Well, to answer your question, I’ve done both many times. I like to think of myself as rather good at them. Have you?”

“Oh, yes. The drink and the act.” 

“That’s good to know. Ready?”

“I want to watch you,” Crowley blurted. 

Aziraphale gave a seductive smile. “I was hoping you would say that. I’d like to watch you, too. Why don’t you go first?”

“Whatever you want, angel,” he said, then turned towards the bar and his shot. He placed both hands flat on the bar, keenly aware of Aziraphale’s eyes on him, and bent his head, mouth open, closing his lips around the shot glass and throwing his head back, swallowing it all. 

“Oh, very good,” Aziraphale praised. “Very good indeed.”

Crowley turned back towards him, licking his lips. “Your turn,” he said eagerly. 

Aziraphale gave him a coy smile, then removed his hand from Crowley’s leg and lay his hands on the bar, just as Crowley had done. He bent towards the drink, and Crowley expected him to pick it up between his lips the way he had done, but instead, he saw Aziraphale’s pink tongue come out, licking at the whipped cream. Crowley made a helpless, guttural noise as he watched that wicked tongue lapping it up. Just when he thought he was going to combust, Aziraphale wrapped his lips around the shot glass and threw his head back as Crowley watched, slack jawed and more aroused than he’d ever been in his long life. 

There was a little bit of whipped cream on Aziraphale’s lip when he removed the shot glass from his mouth and he grinned at Crowley. All Crowley could think to say was, “Fuck, that was hot.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale smirked, then that devilish tongue came out to lick up the spot of cream. “Oh, it seems I’ve made a mess. No matter. I find blowjobs are so much better when they’re messy, don’t you?”

“Ngk,” said Crowley, all he was able to manage. 

Aziraphale chuckled as if he’d said something very witty, and reached for his screaming orgasm with one hand while the other went back to Crowley’s leg - higher this time, nearer to his aching cock, caressing and stroking lightly. 

“I suppose it’s a for… _formality_ at this point, but I feel improper not asking. Crowley, would you like to come back to my flat and spend the night with me?”

Crowley nodded, eyes wide. “Yeah. I - yeah. I’d like that.”

“Lovely.”

“Is there anything I need to bring?”

Aziraphale swallowed his sip of drink and said, “How do you mean?”

“I mean, do we need to stop at the chemists for condoms? Or lube?”

“Oh, no, I have some.” Then he giggled, confusing Crowley. 

“What?”

“When you offered to bring something, I thought you meant something to wear. Like neg… negli...” he stammered, trying to find the word and failing. 

Crowley caught on to what he was saying and tried to help him. “You mean ling… linger…”

Aziraphale burst into giggles again. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”

“Why? Do you want me in - in that? Something skimpy? Because I can make that happen. Anything you want.”

The blue-grey eyes twinkled. “I want you just as you are, and I want you very, very soon.”

Crowley swallowed hard. “I want you, too. So fucking much.”

Aziraphale nodded towards the cocktail in front of Crowley. “Finish your drink and let’s get out of here.”

Crowley picked up his glass and drained it.

~*~O~*~

Five minutes later they stumbled out onto the pavement in front of the pub, hands entwined, laughing. Crowley wasn’t sure what they were laughing at, he was simply laughing because Aziraphale was. The laugh died as they stood there in the night, a small island in the stream of pedestrian traffic, and Crowley drank in the sight of him greedly, with more enthusiasm and thirst than he’d shown when he’d downed all those drinks tonight. They were getting odd looks and the occasional rude gesture or two, but Crowley was oblivious. He was mesmerized by the colorful shadows cast on Aziraphale’s expressive face by the neon lights around them, and the way his hair seemed to glow like a halo. 

“You are absolutely the most gorgeous fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until Aziraphale gave a pleased flush and ducked his head. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. I’m really not. You are, angel. I mean it.”

“I believe you.”

Crowley wasn’t done. “Besides, haven’t you ever heard the saying that a drunk mind… a drunk mind…” He shook his head in frustration. “Fuck it. When you’re drunk, you tell the truth. That’s my point.”

“Is that so?” Aziraphale asked, still coy. 

He nodded. “It’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you anyway, but I _can’t_ lie to you now.”

Aziraphale took a step nearer, hands still entwined, and Crowley let out a little gasp when Aziraphale reached up with his free hand and toyed with Crowley’s tie. His heart was pounding, thundering in his chest, and he was nearly overcome with _want_.

“Is that so?” the blond man said, eyes downcast, lips curled up.

Crowley swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’ll have to tell me the truth?”

“Yeah.”

Aziraphale took another, tiny step until there was only a breath of space between them. The fingers of Crowley’s hand twitched. 

“So I can ask you anything?”

“Anything,” Crowley confirmed, his voice barely audible. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” the angel asked, his breath a whisper on Crowley’s lips. 

Crowley nodded, his eyes wide, his breath choppy. “Yeah.”

“I think you should. I’d like if you did.”

Crowley closed his eyes and leaned forward, and his world exploded into colorful fireworks when their lips met. Aziraphale’s lips were soft and warm, plush, and they were pliant under Crowley’s. He used every ounce of willpower he had to be gentle, to not rush the angel, although his heart was racing and his cock was throbbing in his trousers. Slowly, gently, skittish of frightening Aziraphale with the intensity of his want, he brought up his free hand to Aziraphale’s sweet face and parted his lips over Aziraphale’s. He set his tongue out tentatively to trace Aziraphale’s bottom lip, whimpering a little when he felt Aziraphale’s tongue instead. The very next thing he was aware of, he and Aziraphale were wrapped in each other’s arms, not an atom of space between their bodies, tongues exploring each other’s mouths in a greedy, desperate kiss. Aziraphale’s mouth tasted so good, so sweet, and it was making Crowley feel even more drunk. He wanted to taste Aziraphale all over, to kiss and lick and suck every inch of this man - paying special attention to the hard cock he could feel pressed against his. Christ, he felt so big and thick - was that all for Crowley? He couldn’t wait to get his hands, then his mouth, then his arse around that cock. In fact, in that moment, that was all Crowley wanted in the world. More Aziraphale - all he could have. 

The kiss was broken suddenly when someone slammed into them, breaking them apart, then shouted, “Get a room!” In ordinary circumstances, Crowley would have shouted something rude back at them, but he didn’t have time to think of anything before Aziraphale had stepped out of his reach and _that_ became his primary concern - getting Aziraphale back into his arms. Before he could form a single word of protest, Aziraphale grabbed him by the hand and started walking, dragging Crowley along behind him. 

They hadn’t gone more than a few yards when Aziraphale made a sharp left and pulled Crowley into a dark alley. It was narrow and damp, barely enough room for two people to be in there, and Crowley was confused because it didn’t seem to have an exit at the other end. That didn’t deter Aziraphale, who kept marching towards the dead end. 

“Angel, are we --”

His words were cut off when Aziraphale whirled around, grabbed fistfuls of Crowley’s jacket, then slammed him back against the damp wall, kissing him desperately, pressing his body flush against Crowley’s. Crowley was surprised for only a moment before he was clutching at Aziraphale, trying to get him closer, their tongues battling in a fight both of them were destined to win. Aziraphale rolled his hips, grinding his cock against Crowley’s, and Crowley groaned in his mouth before he did the same, needing the friction. 

Within seconds, he felt Aziraphale’s hands exploring him, roaming his body, and Aziraphale’s meaty thigh pushed its way between Crowley’s. Crowley groaned into the kiss and ground his erection down on Aziraphale’s leg wantonly. 

“Angel, angel,” Crowley whined, one hand threaded through Aziraphale’s hair and the other clutching his jacket, holding him close. 

“That’s it, Crowley. Yes. More of that,” Aziraphale praised between sucking kisses to Crowley’s neck and he ground himself and his cock rhythmically against Crowley, humping him. 

“I thought we were - oh - I thought we were going back to yours.”

“We are. But I couldn’t wait, dear. I needed you _now_. So I’m going to make you come, right here and right now, then we’re going back to mine and we’ll fuck properly. Okay?”

The only answer Crowley could give was a broken moan and to grind his hips against Aziraphale, their cocks rubbing together and creating friction. In truth, he had been hard for the last two hours and was already close - dangerously close. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he exploded. 

“Angel… angel…” he whined, thrusting his hips faster and more urgently. 

Aziraphale used his hands clenched on Crowley’s bum to guide his motions. “Yes, Crowley. Give me more. I love it. I’m so hot for you, dear. Can you feel it? Are you going to come for me?”

Crowley nodded helplessly, still riding Aziraphale’s thigh. “I am. I’m so close. So close. Fuck! Angel, you’re going to make me come… _Shit!_ ”

Aziraphale started grinding harder, grunting lightly in Crowley’s ear. “I’m close too, my darling. Oh, you make me so hot, Crowley. And you’re so hot for me. Does it arouse you to know that anyone in the world could see us right now? All they’d have to do would be to look in our direction, and they’d see us.” 

Crowley was clinging to Aziraphale, humping him as hard and fast as he could, moaning like a tart. He wasn’t able to form coherent thoughts right then, much less words. His entire world was sensation - the feel, the sound, the taste, the scent of Aziraphale. 

“Angel...Aziraphale… gonna come… getting close….”

Aziraphale bit his earlobe, his breaths harsh in Crowley’s ear. “I’m close too, my darling. Can you come for me? Make a mess of yourself for me, my darling boy.”

“Close, so close,” Crowley whimpered, his eyes shut tight. 

He felt Aziraphale’s hand come between their bodies, covering his cock, and that was all it took. He came with a shout, flooding his pants helplessly, his pleasure so intense it was beyond words. Aziraphale kept humping him, grinding his cock against Crowley’s until he gave a mangled cry of Crowley’s name and went stiff, his full weight pressed against Crowley, pinning him to the wall and holding him there. Crowley just stood there, grateful for the support since his knees had gone weak, as he shuddered through aftershocks. Aziraphale whimpered into his shoulder, clutching him tight, and Crowley gathered his thoughts enough to speak. 

“Ducks,” he said clearly, as soon as he was able, ending the scene. 

The next thing he was aware of, Aziraphale was showering his face with kisses, body still pressed against him. 

“I love you, oh, Crowley, I love you, my darling…”

“I love you, too, angel.”

Aziraphale kissed him sweetly, softly, both of them still out of breath, the clothing between them sticky. “Was that good for you, my love? Was that what you wanted?”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Angel, it was _everything_ I wanted and more. But I’m ready to go home now. You promised to fuck me properly, and I’m going to hold you to that.”

Aziraphale gave him an open mouth smile, his eyes twinkling. “It’ll be my pleasure. Are you ready?”

“Take me home and _fuck me_ , angel.”

Aziraphale raised his fingers and snapped.

~*~O~*~

Crowley collapsed onto the bed beside Aziraphale, his breaths heaving, his body trembling. He felt deliciously used, utterly satisfied, and panted into the pillow for a moment, trying to gather himself. 

A minute later, he felt Aziraphale’s hands on him, turning him over to face him. Crowley went willingly and nuzzled into Aziraphale’s arms, winding his own arms around his love while the angel rained breathless kisses all over his face. 

“I love you, I love you, darling. I love you.”

Crowley smiled under the onslaught. “I love you, too.”

“Was it good for you?”

He gave a low chuckle. “I may never walk normally again.”

“You don’t walk normally _now_ ,” Aziraphale teased. “But I meant the whole thing.”

“You mean us pretending not to know each other in a bar then dry humping in an alley before we came home and you fucked me senseless?”

Aziraphale kissed him, smiling. “Yes.”

“It was perfect, angel. Just what I wanted. Did you tip Kelsey well?”

“The best tip of her life, I’m sure, and a little blessing besides. It was very sporting of her to pretend not to know us. Well, you.”

“Mmm. Sporting. The open collar was a nice touch,” Crowley added.

“Oh, you liked that?”

“It was like seeing you naked. I loved it. You should do it more often.”

“Maybe I will.” Aziraphale sighed happily and gathered Crowley closer. “Thank you, dear.”

“Thank me? This was my idea. I should be thanking you.”

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome, but I’m still grateful. I always am when we make love.”

Crowley kissed him sweetly, then smiled. “Me too, angel. Me too.”


End file.
